“I put all the blame in the wrong place, though.”
“Water under the bridge.”
Addy looked up at her mother. “Thank you. After everything I’ve been through with Mark, I’m not sure I could be as forgiving as you if I had a daughter who refused to see the truth.”
Claire shook her head. “Sometimes the truth is just too painful, honey. And we need to filter it through our own interpretation so it’s somehow manageable to us.”
“The part I’m sorry about is how much it must have hurt you. Growing up, I was so sure I wanted to be something different from you. Now, I realize how lucky I would be to be half the woman you are.”
Claire’s eyes glistened with tears. “Oh, honey. Thank you. I’m just happy you’re here. And that whatever happens, we’ve had this time together.”
Addy nodded, reached out and hugged her mother, her throat tight. They sat that way for a good while, and she felt the forging of a new bond between them. One for which she was indescribably grateful.
Claire stood, rubbed a hand across Addy’s hair, then went upstairs to get dressed. Addy sat at the table, drinking a second cup of coffee. She felt the terrible waste of all the years she had not allowed herself to see the similarities between her mother and herself. And the irony that they should end up in a nearly parallel place of decision. To stay on the path that was familiar and safe. Or find the courage to reach for the good.
She knew which one she thought her mother should do. And maybe in that, she’d found the answer to what she felt for Culley as well.
* * *
HE CALLED AROUND NOON. Addy had taken her cell phone out to the warehouse, asking Claire to give him the number if he called the house. She’d been working on the old office there all morning, cleaning it up, organizing files of invoices and customer information with the intent of setting it all up on computer for the future.
With the ringing of the phone, her heart kicked up a dozen beats. The sound of his voice sent it yet higher.
“Are you grounded?” he teased.
Addy smiled. “Mama had a pretty nice evening of her own. Took some of the focus off my indecent arrival home.”
“Good. Would I be moving too fast if I asked you to dinner tonight?”
“No,” she said, surprising herself with the certainty of her answer.
“Okay,” he said, sounding pleased. “Pick you up at seven?”
“Seven would be great.”
* * *
THE TAXI PULLED UP in front of the house just before six o’clock that evening. Liz pulled a ten out of her purse, paid the driver, then got out and waited while he retrieved her single suitcase from the trunk.
The driver got back in the taxi and drove off in a puff of black exhaust. She stood there at the edge of the paved driveway, transfixed by her own uncertainty.
She’d taken a Greyhound bus from Mecklinburg, her stomach uneasy the entire way. Maybe it wasn’t right to just show up like this. Maybe she should have called first.
Her hand trembled on the suitcase handle, and she shuddered beneath the need for a drink.
After all this time, her mind still made that immediate leap to alcohol. The hold had not lessened. The only difference was that she could see it for what it was, a dependence that lured with knee-weakening appeal. So easy to give in to the call of that one drink. To remember how it would dull the reality of what she was about to do, take the edge off her agony.
It would be so much easier to give in than stand here in front of Culley’s house with all her faults and mistakes, trying to gather up the courage to face her daughter.
She reached down for the suitcase, made her way up the front steps, knocked on the door, then clenched her fist together to keep her fingers from shaking.
Footsteps sounded from inside, the door opened and there stood Madeline. Her daughter. Her throat immediately closed up, and she could not speak.
“Mama?”
“Hello, sweetheart.”
Culley appeared behind her, a protective hand on Madeline’s shoulder. “Liz. My God. What are you doing here?”
She swallowed hard, looking at Madeline. “I wanted to see you, honey. I know I should have called first.”
Culley dropped a glance at Madeline who had gone pale with surprise. His face hardened. “Yes, you should have.”
“I’m sorry. I just—”
“You’re not in jail anymore?” Madeline asked.
Liz met her daughter’s wary gaze and shook her head. “No.”
“Are you going to stay here?”
Liz looked up at Culley, saw the anger in his eyes, could not blame him for it. “I just came to see you, honey.”
Culley squeezed Madeline’s shoulder, then stepped back, as if forcing himself to think about her instead of his own feelings. That was the thing that had always set him apart from her as a parent. He had put their daughter first, and she had not.
“Come in, Liz,” he said, taking her suitcase.
She released a sigh of relief and went inside.
* * *
ADDY WAS DRESSED and ready well before seven. Too early because now she had nothing to do but watch the clock in the living room tick forward, while she fought back an increasing wave of nerves. It was like being sixteen all over again, this nearly consuming need to see him.
At seven o’clock, she went outside and sat down on the porch step.
At seven-fifteen, she went back inside, opened her new laptop and tried to focus on an article she’d downloaded from the Internet.
By seven-thirty, she had no idea what she’d just read. She began to worry. It wasn’t like Culley to be late. Or not to call.
Had he had second thoughts?
Stop! She was being ridiculous. The reasonable thing to do was call. Just call. Make sure everything was okay.
She went in the kitchen and picked up the phone, dialing the number. Madeline answered.
“Hi, it’s Addy. I was wondering if your daddy had left yet.”
“He’s talking to Mama. She came home today.”
Surprise hit Addy in the center of the chest. Liz was home? It took her a moment to let the information settle.
“Does this mean we can’t go shopping anymore, Addy?”
“I don’t know,” she said, hearing what sounded like sadness in the child’s voice. “I hope not.”
“Me, too.”
“Are you okay?”
There was silence for a moment, and then Madeline said, “Grown-ups are hard to understand sometimes.”
“Everything will be all right,” Addy said. “It’s just not always easy to see that.”
“I guess so.”
“Okay. I should let you go. Talk to you soon?”
“Bye, Addy.”
She stood there holding the phone long after the line had been disconnected. Then finally placed it back on the wall mount, went upstairs and changed clothes.
* * *
THE PHONE RANG at just after ten.
Addy was in bed with a book propped in front of her, a futile exercise in distraction. Claire wasn’t home yet, so she reached for the extension beside her bed, certain it was Culley before she heard his voice.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
“I’m not sure where to start.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Culley—”
“Madeline said you called. So you know Liz is here?”
“Yeah.”
“Addy, I had no idea—”
“You don’t have to explain anything,” she said in a soft voice. “It has nothing to do with me.”
“It has everything to do with you,” he said, the words losing ground to frustration. He paused, and then said, “I want so damn badly to be past all this.”
“It doesn’t work like that though, does it?”
“I thought I’d reached a point where I could go on, make another life.”
“But she needs you.”
&nbs
p; Another pause. “She needs someone.”
“And I know you. If you walk away from this before it’s finished in a way you can live with, you’ll regret it.”
“So what are you saying?”
“Do what you need to do. Be who you are.”
“I’m not sure I know who that is.”
“I do. You’re a man who stays where he’s needed.”
Several beats of silence. “And what about us?”
She chose her words. They did not come easily. “If what we have has a place, it can wait.”
“Addy—”
“It’s late. I should go.”
“I’ll call you.”
“Okay,” she said and hung up. She sat for a moment, then went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. She pulled her nightgown over her head and stepped under the warm spray, standing there until she couldn’t be sure whether the moisture running down her face was water or tears.
* * *
CULLEY STOOD FOR a moment with his hand on the telephone, fighting the urge to call her back.
“I messed up your plans for the night, didn’t I?”
He whirled around. Liz stood in the kitchen doorway, looking regretful. He sighed and said, “It’s okay.”
“It’s not. I know it. You have another life now which is perfectly understandable. I don’t intend to mess that up. I just want to spend some time with Madeline.”
He nodded.
She looked as though she wanted to say something else, then said, “I think I’ll go up. I’m kind of beat.”
“Good night, Liz,” he said.
“Good night.”
* * *
FOR THE NEXT WEEK, Addy made every effort to keep busy. She hired a full-time man to help with the orchard. Then threw herself into writing a business plan, determined to iron the details out on paper as proof that what she was proposing could work.
Claire was skeptical at first, but with each piece of the plan Addy put in front of her, skepticism began to turn to enthusiasm.
On Sunday, they were sitting at the kitchen table, papers spread out in front of them. “I’ve put together a list of equipment we can repair and things we won’t be able to avoid buying. I’ve also made a list of interesting varieties I think we should consider planting, specialty apples that should go for a higher price to some of these gourmet places who look for ways to be different—”
“Addy.”
She looked up and found Claire studying her with a worried expression. “What is it?”
“You,” she said. “You’ve been going from one thing to another all week as if there’s a fire to put out. Want to talk about it?”
She shook her head. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“I know Liz is back,” Claire said.
Addy looked up, met her mother’s compassionate gaze. The wall she’d built around herself this past week suddenly crumpled, and she put an elbow on the table, dropping her head onto one hand. “He’s doing the right thing. It couldn’t be any other way.”
“For either of you,” Claire agreed. “Sometimes, honey, it takes time for things to become what they’re going to be. If you and Culley are meant to be, then this will all work out.”
Addy knew she was right. Hard as the words were to hear.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
LATER THAT EVENING, Addy was at the barn feeding the deer when she heard a car pull in the driveway.
She stuck her head outside the door and saw Doc Nolen’s old Jeep. He was standing at the foot of the porch steps talking to her mom. Claire was smiling at something he was saying, and it struck Addy how incredibly pretty she looked. Lit up in a way that made her look young and happy.
She ducked back inside the barn before they saw her. A few minutes later, the door opened, and the two of them came to the stall door.
Addy stood, brushing her hands on her jeans. “Hey, Doc.”
“Addy. I just dropped by to see how our patient was doing.”
The deer whirled and ran to the corner of the stall, turning to look back at them with wide, wary eyes.
“She’s a little uneasy around anyone she doesn’t know,” Addy said.
“That’s good, though,” Doc said. “You don’t want her to become too trusting. I see she hasn’t lacked for food. She’s plumped up quite a bit.”
She smiled. “She likes to eat.”
“Addy’s taken really good care of her,” Claire said. “I’m not so sure she’s going to be able to let her go.”
“Have you thought about that?” Doc asked.
Addy lifted her shoulders. “Not a lot.”
“I’m guessing she’s old enough to be released. August would be the latest to let her go, so she’ll have enough time to learn how to forage before the winter.”
The words left a pit in Addy’s stomach. Of course, she had known the time would come when she would need to put the deer back where she belonged. She couldn’t stay here in this stall forever. “Mama’s right,” she said. “It won’t be easy.”
“You did a good thing for her. She probably wouldn’t have made it if you and Culley hadn’t pulled her out of the woods.”
“Thanks,” Addy said.
“Well, I’d better get going.” Doc looked at Claire and cleared his throat. “Word is there’s a pretty good band playing out at the recreation park tonight. Some kind of pop country. I thought I might ride out there and have a listen. Any interest in going with me?”
Claire shook her head. “Oh, I can’t. I’m not dressed or—”
“You look just right,” he said.
“You do, Mama,” Addy said. “Go.”
Claire hesitated and then, “Well, why not? That does sound like fun, Clayton. Just let me get my purse.”
Addy walked outside with them, waved a few minutes later when they headed down the driveway. Maybe it would work out between them. If it was meant to be. She really hoped that it was.
* * *
ON MONDAY MORNING, just over a week since Liz’s return, Culley sat in his office, hands around a mug of untouched coffee. He felt as if he were moving on automatic pilot, as if overnight his life had turned into one he didn’t recognize.
He had to give Liz credit for her effort with Madeline. She took her for walks, baked cookies, went to movies, all things she’d never done before as a mother because her addiction had been her preoccupation.
But so far Madeline wasn’t lowering the wall she’d erected around her feelings for her mother. She rarely smiled, took part in the activities Liz suggested with obvious reluctance.
Culley actually felt sorry for Liz. He could see how desperately she craved her daughter’s forgiveness, but Madeline’s relationship with her mother was one she would have to define herself. It wasn’t up to him.
The only thing he could do was allow the two of them time. And he was torn between the desire to do the right thing and his own need to see Addy.
He stared at the phone, reached for the receiver, dialed the first three digits, then stopped. He placed it back in the cradle. He had nothing to offer her right now.
Addy was right. He wasn’t free and clear. She deserved nothing less than that.
He got up and started his day.
* * *
ON MONDAY MORNING, Ellen called.
Addy was at her laptop, putting together a promotional flyer to send to potential customers. She sat back in her chair, glad to hear her friend’s voice.
They updated each other on things, and then Ellen said, “And Culley? How’s that going?”
“It’s not at the moment,” Addy said.
“What happened?”
“Nothing I want to go into right now.”
“So maybe I called at the right time.”
“What is it?”
“The partners held a meeting on Friday and called me in first thing this morning. They’re hooking up with Burkley, Lane in New York. They want to place two top-notch corporate attorneys in their office who will do th
ings the way they like them done. They picked me. And they want you to reconsider your resignation.”
“What?”
“Yep. You interested?”
“I don’t know. You caught me by surprise.”
“I know you’re helping your mom out, but I have to say this is a great opportunity. Can you come up and talk?”
“Could I think about it?”
“Sure. But they want to know soon. Can you call me tomorrow?”
“I will.”
“Talk to you then.”
Addy hung up and sat for a moment, thinking.
Claire walked into the room and set a cup of tea on the desk. “I thought you might like some.”
“Thank you,” Addy said.
“Are you all right?”
“Just a little surprised. That was Ellen. My friend from work. My old firm has joined ranks with a New York firm and wants to place two attorneys in the Manhattan office right away. They’ve asked Ellen and me to consider the positions.”
Claire’s smile faltered a bit, then steadied. “It sounds like a great opportunity, honey.”
“They want me to come up and talk up about it.”
“Are you going?”
“There’s so much more to do here—”
“Go hear them out, at least. Then make your decision.”
“But—”
“I don’t want you to look back at some point and wish you’d done something differently.”
Addy looked out the window, thought about Culley and how she’d said practically the same thing to him. The past week had not been an easy one. Being in the same place and not seeing him…she didn’t imagine it would get any easier. “What about everything here?”
“You’ve already done the most important part. Finding a way to breathe new life into this place. If you decide you want to be a part of it, that will be wonderful. But I want you to make sure you know what you’re leaving behind. Then decide.”
* * *
ADDY WENT TO the barn early the next morning. During the short time she’d slept, her dreams had been a tangle of scenes in which she tried to let the deer go, but Culley kept standing in the way, imploring her not to.
She’d sat straight up in bed, her face wet with sweat as if she’d just run five miles. She’d sat there a moment, knowing what she had to do.
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